


Against the Torrent

by wickedrum



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Sickfic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-04-15 03:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14151057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedrum/pseuds/wickedrum
Summary: Why doesn't Thranduil help out his son and his allies in the battles of the War of the Ring? I've seen the question asked many times. Well, here he does.Setting: Movieverse. Starts at the end of the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, right after Aragorn has released the Army of the Dead from their oath.





	1. Heat of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Thranduil/Tauriel, but not focussed on romance.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything, barely my knickers.

Chapter 1: Heat of the Heart

The greenish-grey silhouettes of the Dead Men of Dunharrow were heard whistling a collective, elongated sigh with each and every one of the oathbreakers that disappeared, even though the sound didn't quite manifest itself perceivably in the concrete realm. There was a sense of relief, not just from the Shadow Host, but experienced by all who were present as well as the wind whisked the haunting cursed away surprisingly quick and those who remained could now focus on saying their thanks and taking stock of the corpse littered battlefield. While Pippin's attention was drawn to his friend Merry's form, Legolas stood frowning, rather baffled by the golden armour and pointy helmets of the Mirkwood guard glinting on some of the fallen.

“Their sacrifices might still be in vain,” Gandalf was of a negative mindset, but placed a hand on Legolas' shoulder nevertheless in comfort, “the darkness is increasing.”

“Did Thranduil send reinforcements?” Legolas did not think to refer to the monarch as his father, testament to the rift between the two royals, wider than the actual geographical distance they could usually be found at. 

“He has brought his army,” the wizard seemed heavyhearted, “without it, we would have not survived till your arrival.”

“He's here?” The blond elf was very surprised and forthwith disquieted as well, “he wouldn't leave Mirkwood undefended.” However noble his current cause was, Legolas already felt somewhat guilty for not being there for the war coming to their own lands. His eyes searched for their colours on the plain, or maybe some long time no see familiar faces. 

“I don't have any good news for you I'm afraid,” Gandalf imparted, “go to him, time is of the essence. It is possible he might not endure any longer.”

“Where?” Legolas felt his heart tremble and skip some beats while it was deciding whether it should turn into ice or stone.

“Your people made it to the Second Level with him. I had to advise them not to take Thranduil any further, any more jostling his body could not take.”

Legolas looked up in that direction on instinct but of course the walls hindered any clues to be seen. Seeing his disposition, Aragorn stepped over to briefly place a hand on the elf's shoulder as he passed by him, “come, my friend. We shall see what we can do.”

The blond let himself be led by the Ranger, more affected by the news than he would ever cared to admit even to himself. He looked at the bodies no more for fear he would find other familiar faces, simply jumped on the back of a horse behind the Dunedain who held out a hand for him to grab onto so he could swing himself atop the animal that seemed to have lost its rider during the battle at some point. On horseback, the distance was no trouble at all, nor the makeshift barricade that served as the Gate that had been overtaken. 

“Prince Legolas!”

Aragorn turned the horse towards the sound so his friend could see who called his name. Feren nodded dutifully, “Prince Legolas, I have news of your father.”

“Is he alive?” The blond snapped impatiently. 

“He is, but barely, My Prince. There is chaos everywhere, but if there's anything to be done, we need to arrange for some of the healers to come down from the Citadel.”

“What are his injuries?” Aragorn thought practically.

Feren seemed reluctant to impart, “a deep cut across the abdomen to the extent of disembowelment.”

“Caused by whom or what?” The Ranger pressed. A possibly poisoned weapon could be more detrimental than the injury itself. 

“Nazgul..” Feren didn't even attempt to minimize the dread in his voice and that he had lost his normal elven cool, disquieted Legolas more than anything. Would he had been asked, he would have had no recollection of the remainder of the journey to the small circle of the Elven Guard gathered round their King just behind the Second Gate where he was let through to his father's side, still seeing only through a haze. It was hard to believe that Thranduil didn't even have a death bed to lie on, unless the cloaks that were lain on the hard stones counted. Although Legolas had expected a dire sight, the amount of blood still startled him, as well as the greyness of his father's skin everywhere that wasn't covered in blood, none of his radiance and albescence that made him a Silvan present. 

“Thranduil, Thranduil..” 

The next shock to Legolas was that it was Tauriel out of all the creatures of Middle-Earth who had a palm on Thranduil's forehead, calling his name and trying to soothe the tremendous pain he must have been in, manifest by the inhuman sounds escaping his father's bloodied lips, somewhere between a moan, a keen and a scratchy, shaky scream, and nothing Legolas could have ever imagined coming from Thranduil. It appeared so primal and inevitable that it could however never be considered undignified. “Help him,” Legolas pleaded with Aragorn, “take his pain away,” he tried, not even assuming that the Elvenking's life could be saved too. 

The Ranger stood there for a moment, assessing the situation, an elf servant's hand that seemed to be the only thing keeping Thranduil's insides where they belonged, the troublesome way the injured drew his breaths, the unseeing eyes that were driven away from reality by excruciating agony. Suddenly, Aragorn wasn't all that sure of anything he had learnt in Riverdell, “send word to Elrond, he's to ride immediately with haste,” he asked of Feren before turning to Legolas, “I can mayhap keep Thranduil alive till then, but I can't promise anything.” His next words were for everyone, “does anyone have athelas?”

“I carry some with me at all times now, for all eventualities,” Tauriel imparted.

“A wise choice, My Lady,” Aragorn assumed her title, based on the intimate way she held onto the King. 

“It's no use,” the elleth shook her head, “I've tried rubbing it onto the wound, but it is way too large for the herb to have more of an effect than some moderate, localised pain relief.”

“Not to worry, there's another use for it. Do you have any left?” The Ranger gave a little sigh of relief at her nod, “bring boiling water,” he asked one of the Elven Guards, “the salubrious scent should reinvigorate Thranduil somewhat, that is if we use it in an enclosed space. And since your King cannot be moved, I want you to build a small tent round us, just big enough for a few of us around Thranduil,” he turned to the Elvish soldiers again who did not hesitate to follow his advice seeing as the Prince seemed to trust him. 

“He's barely breathing..” Legolas observed, having worked on gathering strength to come closer and possibly watch his father die. 

“Hush, my friend,” Aragorn addressed the Prince's concern and lowered himself so that he could take the wounded elf's hand into his. 

“He's not bleeding much anymore either,” Galion noted, him being the one holding the wound together. “I fear it might be because he has no more left to bleed.”

“Let me see,” the Elrond taught Dunedain nodded in the injury's direction. However, he had to add, “you are not likely to cause any more harm by letting go,” before Galion complied and pulled away the parts of his own tunic he had been using to cover the wound with as well. 

There were a few elves who turned away at the sight of bowels showing bare, as well as a gasp and a retching sound followed by rushed steps retreating, Aragorn however remained professional and took some moments drawing closer to study the damage. “The good news is that it doesn't seem poisoned and the lacerations show signs of healing,” he determined, “I'm afraid however that all Thranduil's energy is now spent and we have to get him through the rest of the way.”

“The boiling water, as you've requested, My Lord,” the Elven Guard returned with two women behind him carrying a pot of steaming liquid they've set down in front of the heir of Isildur.

“How many leaves have you got left?” He addressed Tauriel.

“Five.”

“Please throw two into the water,” he instructed, “we shall leave the rest for when there's a roof over our heads to contain the aroma.”

It only took a few moments till there was a noticeable change and all close by looked questioningly at each other because of the curious effect: everyone felt calmer and less worried all of a sudden. Legolas found the courage he needed and also knelt by his father, his mind only now starting to truly wonder about Tauriel's presence by his father's side. “What's happening?” Galion questioned, “how is this helping the King?”

“Patience,” Aragorn took some deeper breaths himself, using the side effect of him being able to breathe in the athelas to strengthen himself so he could be a more efficient healer, “it will take longer for the freshness to reach Thranduil's heart.” But to hasten the process, he took a mouthful of the tingling steam and blew the fragrance out over the King's mouth and nose and this time, it only took a few moments for the change to be noticeable with Thranduil as well. The Elvenking's breathing deepened, his moans quietened and some colour sneaked back onto his skin. 

The Dunadain stood as if finished, “please repeat the process My Lady once there's shelter above, it should have a more profound effect, enough to get your King transportable. Allow me to have the last athelas leaf, I promise you I will have a brew ready for the wound for when you arrive to the Houses of Healing. Now if you'll excuse me, I am currently needed elsewhere,” he nodded gravely, honouring the seriousness of the situation despite his departure. 

Tbc


	2. Sweet Doom

Chapter 2: Sweet Doom

“I don't see much change,” Legolas observed as they sat under the makeshift shelter filled up with the medicinal steam of the newly brewed athelas. 

“There is,” Tauriel sounded confident, “his rest is more peaceful and we don't have to worry about his breathing.”

“Are you sure it's not just the athelas giving you peace of mind instead?” 

“I can see you still don't trust me and I don't blame you, but I want to assure you that His Majesty's well-being is as important to me as it is to you. I do have some knowledge of the healing arts if you remember.”

Legolas sighed, “I don't quite understand any of this. Last time I looked, you were banished and not minding it either, a state that lasted several decades.”

“Last time I looked, you were away on purpose, and not minding it either, a state that lasted several decades,” she countered, sounding vexed. “But ff you wish, I can explain some things to you while we're waiting for the cart to take the King to the Houses of Healing.”

“Will he survive?” Legolas wanted to make sure first.

“What did your friend Lord Aragorn say to you before he left? I saw you talking in private.” Tauriel wanted to check as well because what if they were indeed all just influenced by the herb induced positivity in the air.

“He asked if my father has been unwell before the injury? If he had been thinking of sailing.”

“And what did you say to that.”

“That I have spent a grand total of nine days in Mirkwood over the last ten years,” Legolas sounded embarrassed, knowing he was lacking in certain areas there, like she had pointed out earlier.

“Lord Thranduil has not talked about sailing, but he had been stricken by a malady that dampened his spirits, took his appetite and given how long it had been going on, I would say it weakened him considerably,” Galion provided. 

“How long has it been going on.” The Prince pressed.

“You aren't that clueless, are you,” Tauriel scoffed. 

“I don't think I understand your meaning,” Legolas was starting to get frustrated with the situation. 

“The malady came upon him the day you've abandoned the kingdom, My Lord,” the redhead parried.

Legolas didn't know whether to be offended more by the statement or by the apparent actuality that she had purposefully distanced herself from him by addressing him formally as if their childhood together meant nothing, “how would you know that.”

“Everybody knows that,” Galion intercepted, not bothered by the fact that it wasn't his place to put the Prince of Mirkwood right. 

“You're saying I'm to blame for my father's lack of adequate self-healing.”

“We have other things to concentrate on right now,” Tauriel neither supported or negated the claim, “the King doesn't feel as cold anymore, I think this is the time to make it up to the remaining levels,” she suggested. 

Legolas wanted to ask just how, when and under what strange circumstances did Tauriel become in charge over matters intimately to do with his father, but his former childhood friend was right, they had other priorities for now. “I will lift him over,” he offered, glancing to the simple wooden cart that has been brought forward by the Guard for the purpose, “or does he need to be handled with less jostling?” He allowed himself to be guided by the redhead's medical expertise that he knew certainly outweighed his.

“Yes, it would be best if his midsection stayed as immobile as possible. But the three of us should be able to move him in unison without harming him much. If you take his legs, Galion could take the middle and I could take him under the neck and shoulders.”

Once again, Legolas concentrated on gently moving his father with the others, without giving much thought to how he'd ended up with the legs as an outsider would have. “He needs at least two blankets,” Tauriel was ordering the other guards around some more. Legolas would have to ask how that situation of authority transpired, as soon as it was possible. For now, he followed the torches of his people through the ashes and smoke and fallen bodies. 

Tbc


	3. Weighed By Wait

Chapter 3: Weighed By Wait

Once Legolas could not feel the sweet smell of athelas in his nostrils no more, his fear of losing Thranduil grew even deeper as he grabbed one of the handles of the frame the King had been placed on for transport and helped pulling it out from under Thranduil after the king had been placed on one of the beds in the Houses of Healing. Aragorn was present as promised, handing a bowl to Tauriel, “you wash the wound with this, and leave some to soak the bandages with. One of the women will give you what you need,” he indicated the table set up with supplies to the side. “Legolas friend, how you feel?”

“Me? What consequence is that?”

“Because it is you who has to recall your father back from the dark valley. I am of no importance to him, you hold the power.”

Legolas looked on gravely and troubled for a moment, “I can try. How do I?”

“Put your hand on his forehead, or heart or hold his hand, whatever you feel best, wish for him to come back to us and say the words. You've heard me doing it before.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes. You have the blood of kings flowing in your veins and I am here to channel that strength for you. It will be a lot easier and quicker than you having to learn the art, but it would be advantageous if you could acquire some basic skills at some point for every eventuality. But for now, just gather your care and call for him accompanied by a touch or kiss.”

Legolas hesitated uncomfortably. Neither kissing or touching was particularly customary between father and son, not since he was small enough to fit into Thranduil's lap. Feeling it being least personal, he finally set his palm on the King's chest, eliciting a shaky moan from him, that as if burned Legolas and he removed his hand immediately. “There is a bond between you two, whether you believe it or not,” Aragorn encouraged. 

The Prince nodded his acknowledgement, and tried harder this time, kneeling down by the bed so he didn't have to move Thranduil's arm when he placed his hand on his father's, “awake father,” he pleaded, “come back to us and be well,” he sighed his wishes. It sounded too simple to his ears, even though he knew that Aragorn himself didn't use more complicated words with his healing. Desired effects were in the will, not the specific words. Nevertheless, Legolas didn't expect his ministrations to have had any effect, and indeed, Thranduil didn't seem to move, nor did it his condition appear to change. 

“Continue, I can still work on him in the meantime,” Tauriel advised as she removed the blood soaked bandages that had been fastened to Thranduil's abdomen for the trek up and across Minas Tirith, then gently dripped some of the healing potion made by Aragorn above and into the wound, using her fisted hands so that the drip was steady and not an overwhelming sensation. 

“Put some on his brow too,” Aragorn instructed, but made no move, completely convinced by and confident in the redhead's abilities. 

The elleth placed her wet palm atop Thranduil's forehead gently, softly, lovingly, all her care in the movement and that made Aragorn decide, “Tauriel, right? Call for him as well, My Lady.”

She hesitated not. “Awake Thranduil,” Tauriel's voice sounded firm and crisp and strong, but also sweet and adoring at the same time and most of all, determined. It wasn't an occasion to hide her feelings, even if Legolas noted the turn of events with incredulity and confusion. “Awake My King, feel my warmth in the darkness, follow me into to the light, My Beloved, estelion allen, High King of the Sindar, son of Oropherion. Tolo, minno, erio, aphado nin! Thranduil, open your eyes, I am here!”

Legolas jumped back in surprise when Thranduil indeed did, his deep blue eyes remaining fixed on Tauriel as she smiled at him fondly. “Where am I? What is the status of the battle?” Purposefully steeling his voice into what would be expected of a king, he finally turned his attention to important events, though his gaze remained on her. 

“The battle is won, thanks to the forces Lord Estel and Legolas brought.”

“Legolas?..” Thranduil tried to find the well missed face.

“I'm here Ada,” the prince leaned into Thranduil's line of vision to help, but was too weary of the circumstances to touch him again, nor used to it. “How are you feeling?”

“Worn out, but as if floating on clouds at the same time,” the King frowned, not liking being out of control, “it's strange.”

“You must rest,” Tauriel ordered with resolve, as if she had been the royal and not the other way round, “do not fret, we will keep vigil.”

“The battle's won, but the war remains grievous,” Thranduil was lucid enough to note, though he was too exhausted to get properly worked up over it. 

“Gandalf has called a council to consider our options as we speak,” Aragorn advised, “which is why I must leave you again.”

“I should go also,” Legolas felt compelled as much as he thought he should stay by his father's side as well.

“I will be with him while you're with the council, don't worry,” Tauriel encouraged, “and I shall let you know how he's been.”

There was that feeling again, of having been shoved out of his rightful place that would have been by his father's side. But then again, he had his sworn duties that would stand as long as there was a Sauron to fight. Yet, he needed Aragorn's reassuring hand on his shoulder to step away, and the matter of the queer relationship between the banished elleth and her King would have to be ignored till a more suitable time.

Tbc

Glossary:

I believe/trust in you ~ Estelion allen  
Come! ~ Tolo!  
Come in/Enter ~ Minno  
Stand/Rise ~ Erio   
Follow me ~ Aphado nin


	4. Suspended Reprieve

Chapter 4: Suspended Reprieve

“We are to march on the Black Gate with immediate effect. I'm just taking advantage of the small time required to ready the horses,” Legolas came to a stop behind Tauriel as she knelt beside her king's bedside, “any change?” He worried as to him it seemed that his father's appearance became graver, as if a heavier weight had been laid upon him. 

“Don't worry,” Tauriel responded without turning, yet sympathetic to his state of mind anyway, “we have treated him in time and I can feel him coming back to us. There was a lot of damage that makes him fatigued and thus he sleeps deeply for its repair.”

“How are you so certain of that when not even Aragorn and Galdalf can tell for sure,” Legolas sounded jaded, and impatient for once. Circumstances.

Tauriel turned this time, her head and body remaining in a bowing position, though it was for the prince, “Aragorn and Gandalf do not have the same bond with Thranduil as I do.”

Legolas almost stepped back in shock and held his breath, but then he fortified himself. It was what he wanted to know after all, “and what bond is that?”

The redhead looked around self-consciously, wanting to make sure nobody was listening, but all seemed tied up with their patients in the Houses of Healing, “Legolas...uhm, your father and I...” She took a deep breath and came out with it, “he had been straying from the Halls himself, spending a lot of time in the forests, alone, which is where I was. We kept meeting and once in our desperation..we took comfort in each other's arms. We aren't bonded as soulmates, we can't be, but there's something there that connects our spirits, powerful enough for me to sense him in his unconsciousness.” Proof to her words, she passed her fingers softly and intimately through his hair, pulling some strands away from his face. 

“The Court is aware I see,” the Prince voiced his next realisation with a frown. 

Tauriel seemed somewhat discomfited, “it was Galdor at first,” she mentioned Mirkwood's eldest, “I think it was him that convinced the healers and councillors back home that encouraging our relationship was in the King's and thus the Kingdom's best interest. I was approached by a delegation of the Council and essentially asked to meet Thranduil's needs.”

“And you accepted to be whored.” While Legolas sounded increasingly upset, losing his precious composure, it did not appear clear whom he was mad the most with exactly. “I fail to understand you.”

“No. How can you even imagine me doing that, with those connotations. My sense of independence wouldn't allow it, you should know that,” Tauriel only sounded slightly jarred though, her hand and attention remaining on her King, “we happened to have a close relationship, that's how it all came to be.”

“Why? Tauriel, that makes no sense. Last time I looked, you were mortal enemies.”

“You don't look very often, do you.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“And I thank you for all you've done for me over the years. There could be nobody else who could match that, I am not forgetting that. It's simply that we've lost touch, of our own fault or not. I can tell you everything, but maybe now's not the time?” She inclined her head towards the noise outside the gates. “I would come with you to fight, but with Aragorn and Gandalf gone, there should be a healer left around Thranduil.”

“Just keep him alive,” Legolas agreed, “till Lord Elrond arrives. One more with us, what could that do against Sauron's forces at any case.”

“A lot when it's this one,” Thranduil tried to prop himself up, grabbing for the redhead's hand. 

“Father, what are you doing!” Legolas inhaled sharply and suppressed the urge to push the older elf back down, Tauriel was already taking care of it in a milder manner at any case. “The Ranger of the North instructed us not to let you up for a few days, at all,” she explained, “I am glad you are conscious but you need to lie still so you don't re-injure yourself.”

“Unnecessary. It doesn't hurt much,” the king seemed rather confused as he hovered a hand over his belly, not really confident about touching it and what he'd find. 

“We gave you a brew to lessen the pain, but I'm afraid your insides will still find themselves outside if you stood up,” Tauriel summarised the situation. 

“Regrettably I can't aid you,” Thranduil's sharp statement sounded sad and almost contrite as he linked his gaze with his son's, “but take the Guard and all of my soldiers, they are under your command.”

Legolas shifted uncomfortably. “I didn't think you will regain consciousness so quickly,” he looked at the elleth for direction.

“Legolas is right, you must rest,” Tauriel stopped her king trying to raise his head, not a hard task in his current condition, her lips trembling in her anxious care.

“Promise me ion-nin,” Thranduil tried to ignore the restraining fingers and his barely working jaw, “that you would always put Mirkwood's interest to the forefront.” 

“That is your task,” the younger blond argued, not liking where the conversation was going. 

“Promise me,” the King strained, breath faltering, brow furrowing in effort. 

It made Legolas leap to his knees in front of him, heart sinking and wondering how badly off his father was to be acting like this. “Whatever happens, you will take the Army back to Mirkwood afterwards to defend our people,” Thranduil continued, thankful he could lower his stern voice, having fully captured Legolas' attention and his hand in the other ellon's. 

“I would never refuse such a wish but you realise that right now, what is in Mirkwood's interest is exactly the same as of the Fellowships', to stop Sauron,” Legolas could only argue for what he thought was right, if only with a hint of reluctance under the current circumstances.

“I do not wish to delay you. My Guard and soldiers are yours,” Thranduil repeated sternly, “to do with as you wish, as long as you deem it to be in Mirkwood's evolving interest. You have a duty.” He seemed peaceful as he sighed and let his head loll. He closed his eyes, having made his point and weary of the lots of talk. 

That unsettled Legolas. Not so much his father's motionlessness, but the abdicating of power in favour of someone he knew would do things differently than himself, so much so that the lost prince looked at Tauriel for guidance in his confusion, “what do you think I should do?”

“Whatever your heart's telling you is not wrong only because of different circumstances,” the redhead seemed certain. 

“You would go to the Black Gate,” Legolas still wanted confirmation.

“Yes.”

“You brought my father here haven't you?” The idea suddenly seemed very likely in the younger blond's mind. 

“Your father would do nothing he doesn't want to do, you know that.”

“But you kept persevering, isn't that true.” Despite the latest unexpected possible romantic development, Legolas had a hard time imagining Tauriel not on his side. 

“Legolas. I didn't bring Thranduil here. You did. He cannot stand the thought of you in danger.” Her voice could barely be heard over the trumpets outside, calling for departure.

“Promise me this one thing, mellon,” the prince could not ignore the call for marching into battle any longer, “you will keep my father alive till my return.”

“I never had the chance to promise earlier, but I need not to. I would give my life for my king if I had to,” she said proudly, words brimming with emotion.

“As his Guard?” Legolas remained confused in regards to the curious relationship between the two.

“As the love of my life,” Tauriel admitted penitently, overwhelmed. Her words were just as impulsive as they were sincere, and they also mirrored a determination fuelled by despair. It wasn't something the heir to the throne could understand at this point, but finding out about the nature of her feelings would have to wait.

Tbc


	5. Beauty and the Beast

Chapter 5: Beasts and Beauties 

Legolas had some difficulty holding back the hill-troll hammer above his head while many of his companions were being literally crushed down by similar assaults in the midst of a rain of arrows as if it were a thunderstorm. It was hard to hear anything distinct amidst the roar of beasts and men alike, be sure of which way to swing a sword amongst the chaos. Slick from the black gore of a troll, Legolas' blade slipped and he lost his balance, falling on his back side and barely missing the jaws coming for his throat as he rolled out the way and buried the weapon's tip into the heart of the creature. The onslaught was neverending however, Legolas did have no respite before the next attacker took its chance with him, bar for the split second of thought process that exposed how badly the battle was going. Taking time for the assessment was a mistake, and it nearly cost him an arm if not for another blade slashing the troll's head right off his shoulders. “Tauriel!” Legolas was scandalised by the rescuer. “What are you doing here! What about Ada!” He accused as they each took on an opponent. 

Tauriel's incline of the head gave the answer. Thranduil was slicing at his own opponent not two length of a horse away and that was all that any of them had time for to acknowledge as they were pushed back, away from the Dark Tower, in different directions, till the Gate's explosive, abrupt falldown. The hands of the beasts enslaved by spells fell. Still, it took a moment till everyone's realised the outcome of the war was decided for elsewhere and yet it could not be properly celebrated for the grievous losses. Legolas too, looked for his loved ones and not too much surprisingly, found them together, with Tauriel holding onto a rather shaky King. “What's going on!” Legolas demanded, having repeatedly been thrown by his compatriots' recurrent reappearance. 

“Gwaihir, the Eagle brought Elrond to Minas Tirith to heal me.”

“More like patch you up enough so you can act some more foolish,” Tauriel seemed to admonish. 

“How are you Ada,” Legolas wanted to make sure first.

“He's in a lot of pain,” Tauriel patronised, “and he needs back to the healers for at least rest if nothing else.”

“I will endure,” Thranduil grumbled without making any attempt to stand on his own. 

“What exactly are you doing here.” Legolas could not take the enigma any longer. 

“It's you two,” the older elf complained, “always running off into danger, so what am I supposed to do!”

“Us two,” Legolas repeated, “why is it you care so much?”

“Are you seriously questioning me care for my son?”

“Maybe not,” the prince allowed, “but for your Captain of the Guard,” he asked pointedly, finally having a chance to perhaps getting an answer. He moved to offer his help to support his father too, guiding him away from the carnage, the sight of which was making nobody feel better despite the victory.

Thranduil stopped in his tracks however, looking at him agitatedly, “Tauriel is so much more to me, ion-nin.” He was tense about giving him the answer too. “Legolas. I and Tauriel, we are to wed. We only waited for your blessing.”

The prince looked from one to the other, noting her blush and the determination in his eyes, despite his shaky hands. “We love each other,” Tauriel look to explain. 

“You love each other,” it was hard to comprehend for the prince. “How?”

“I think we have always loved each other,” Thranduil ventured, “I just didn't know I could let myself, for many reasons, ranging from your mother to our respective positions in society. It was why I have treated Tauriel so harshly for years, to make her think I didn't like her.”

“I thought you didn't like her!” Legolas huffed, “and I pretty much think he had you fooled too,” he wanted confirmation from Tauriel.

“He did, though there were moments that were confusing.”

“So how did you figure it out?” The Prince demanded. 

“It's not my place to explain this part,” she looked questioningly at her king, “and you should probably rest first,” she encouraged Thranduil.

“Legolas deserves to know,” the older blond argued, continuing to keep himself balanced with the help of other two as they walked.

“You're out of breath,” she fussed, “let me explain then.”

“Go ahead,” the answer came way too easy for comfort. 

Tauriel adjusted her hold on her king's waist for a firmer, more stabilising grip, “Thranduil took a leave of absence of sorts from the throne.”

“What? How does that work? When?” Legolas was even more confused. 

“I'm not proud of those moments,” the Elvenking intercepted.

“You weren't around to know about it,” Tauriel accused the prince at the same time, “you weren't even available to be found when the Council sent word.”

“And for that, I am sorry,” the prince was sincere, “have I known you've had such grave difficulties, I would have returned.”

“Never fret, ion-nin, for it was the moment we have found each other. I wanted to settle in the forest in anonymity, at least for a little while till I figured out the next step, but have overestimated my own abilities. If it wasn't for Tauriel keeping watch over the woods even without her officially being a guard, I would have been spider food. She wanted to take me back to the Halls to recuperate but I forbade her.”

“And having shed all formality and position, I finally knew who he really was,” Tauriel supplied, “they were the most beautiful years in my life,” she shared a longing look with her beloved. 

“You've spent years in the forest, with the throne empty?” Legolas was now outright fraught.

“The situation could have turned worse if Tauriel did not send word back that I was safe and only in need of solitude. But it wasn't solitude I needed, it was her.”

Legolas made a dismissive gesture, “I can see why you would fall for her, you however,” he frowned at the elleth. 

“I think I kind of have a thing for the suffering ones. I tended to your father, body and soul and I guess it appealed to my carer side and I came to see the real him. The ellon he is that I think he will be ready to show you too.”

“That, later,” Thranduil groaned weakly as the arms he held onto them with became weak. He tried to blink himself alert, but that did not work and neither did the gulp that turned into a moan with which his legs buckled and his body became limp.

“Thranduil!” The worry in Tauriel's voice and the care she demonstrated while easing the King's body down onto the ground spoke for itself. It was hard to doubt her devotion and love, however unbelievable it may be. She tried to pat his cheeks to raise him, but Legolas just shook his head, incredulous. He sat back on his heels dazed, himself in some kind of shock as fellow Mirkwood elves showed up to aid their ruler, gathering around him to assess his condition and raise him up to be carried. 

“Legolas? Coming?” There was a hand on his shoulder and he looked up to gaze in the emerald eyes of his once coveted childhood sweetheart. “My blessing to the two elves I care for the most? You have it,” he assured as he was pulled onto his feet by the redhead.

The End.


End file.
